il M'aime pas du tout
by Kid9535
Summary: Songfic based on episode 25. What Sarah Said by Death Cab for Cutie. I can't really do a good summary for this one. T for death? Just to be safe. And it's LxLight. I think my thoughts are turning gay.


A/N:Okay, I screwed up the fic by being lazy. And I need to get my gift fic to Suchi Rukara. I don't know what to call this. Gonna crap everything. And oh noes! This is like my first time really writing something gay. Wjkefnwkj.

Okay, 'il m'aime' I think it means 'He loves me' and 'pas du tout' means 'not at all' in French. That's what the girl wrote on the mirror in lipstick for the music video of What Sarah Said. Did I mention this was my second posted song fic? I gave up on the rest.

Disclaimer: Don't own What Sarah Said by Death Cab for Cutie and Death Note.

**il M'aime**** pas du tout**

The words 'Just as planned' just echoed in his mind, like a never-ending mantra. And somewhere along the line, it started to hurt. Throb. A scab peeled off a wound that wasn't ready.

"_We must test out the notebook,"_ a distant voice. Whose? Images of a sugar-addicted insomniac in a crouching position, always seen perching precariously on a chair or a stool appeared. Sometimes he wished to stay there beside that figure forever, supporting him; but most times, he wished to push him off the edge of the furniture and over a cliff.

But why?

**And it came to me then **

**That every plan **

**Is a tiny prayer to father time**

It had come back to him in the helicopter. Sears of pain, snatches of screams, he could only be grateful that he was facing the shinigami. But it wouldn't make any difference. He knew, he always did.

And yet…

**As I stared at my shoes **

**In the ICU **

**That reeked of piss and 409**

Did it have to end this way?

Falling from his perch, finally falling. His victory, but his pain as well. He had to salvage the pieces of him, just before he broke forever.

His precious figurine.

**And I rationed my breaths **

**As I said to myself **

**That I'd already taken too much today**

The fall had been made, a futile catch, salvaging the precious pieces even after they'd shattered with the drop of the eyelids.

Aizawa by his side berating him. Blank look plastered on his face, staring aimlessly at all the information of Kira, of himself. He didn't bother to take notes this time. It wasn't his precious one, no his precious one was under hospital care. That slim chance…

He ultimately wouldn't take it of course, but he continued to hope for it.

He reached for another glass, Aizawa's voice ringing in his ears, chastising him. It went something like 'No more, Light-kun, don't take anymore.'

Funny, if he replaced alcohol with lives, he would be easier to ignore.

Of course his rational mind caught him before he completely fell to an alcohol induced pass-out. He needed to be awake.

**As each descending peak **

**On the LCD took you a little farther away from me  
Away from me  
**

He could almost hear the soft machinery. Reviving him would take time. It wouldn't happen, but he knew they would try.

With lidded eyes, he focused on a spot on the rug, previously made by a piece of cake, the stain never came out. He was almost glad it hadn't. One more piece to pick up.

**Amongst the vending machines **

**And year-old magazines **

**In a place where we only say goodbye**

He could imagine the scene if they were in a hospital. A few other sobbing people in a hallway so bright white it almost blinded one. There would be the stains though, the invisible stains of tears. Some were visible, yellow stained pages with tiny bugs making a home. Surviving. Not like the others in the room who were slowly dying with their loved ones in the nearby enclosed rooms.

There would also be vending machines, for coffee that tasted better than the kind that Matsuda made. Some would contain dried foodstuff, and occasionally, someone with tears running down his face would get up and fish out a few coins and slot them into the machine. Soft rumbling would temporarily drown out the grieving but it would cease as soon as a small plastic packet popped out of the slot. And would the man remember to pick it up? Or would he collapse to the floor in a bout of sadness?

**It stung like a violent wind **

**That our memories depend **

**On a faulty camera in our minds**

He flipped open his hand phone, as the screen illuminated softly, joining its brethren in the room, the screens flickered like a chorus of light, but they were red and it was blue.

The paranoid detective never wanted his face recorded by any camera; no photos of him ever remained.

But he'd managed to sneak one when he wasn't looking.

That zoned out look, ever present on his face, though it was always the opposite of what he looked like. He was devouring his usual portion of cake. It was mandatory in his meals.

**But I knew that you were a truth **

**I would rather lose **

**Than to have never lain beside at all**

He flicked the phone shut and pushed all nostalgic thoughts to the back of his mind. Impassive, that's what he should aim for.

It hurt, just as it started to on the roof. He lost his equal, but he would have done anything to experience it even if it be temporary. He never had a challenge worth his while before. And it was obvious, as he had made it clear, that he hadn't either.

**And I looked around**

**At all the eyes on the ground **

**As the TV entertained itself**

He lifted his head, to see if the other members of the investigation were scrutinizing him. He would have to act anxious that wouldn't be a problem, of course, but it would be a hassle.

Matsuda was grasping a tea cup, staring straight into it as if looking into its past, but the contents had long gone cold.

It was his tea cup. The one he had never finished. If he looked carefully enough he could almost see the tears glistening in his eyes and him trying to brave by damming in his tears. The tea cup almost broke under his strained grasp.

Aizawa was studying the floor intently. Eyebrows creased, it was hard to tell if he really would miss him. Not like Light did…never like Light did.

Mogi was just…being stoic. But the pressure was slowly breaking him. He got up after a while to 'get some air'.

Light was being too indecisive of how to feel about the situation to care where Mogi was going.

**'Cause there's no comfort in the waiting room  
Just nervous pacers bracing for bad news  
And then the nurse comes round and everyone will lift their heads  
But I'm thinking of what Sarah said **

He hated being anxious and finding out what was going to happen. He comforted himself with the fact that everything was and would go 'Just as Planned'. He wasn't going to come back to life, and he could…no, would create the New World.

But there was always the nagging feeling of loss that would haunt him forever. He derived that by instinct and temporarily ignored logic.

Then his father entered the room.

Everyone looked up, expecting the worse.

'Ryuuzaki is dead.'

Those official words did not come as a surprise, but it almost broke him. Broke him like his precious one had.

A few people stood up. Voices rang in his ears…whose? He no longer cared

He drowned out the images around him and memories began to take their place.

A song. Yes.

**"That Love is watching someone die"**

Did that mean he loved Ryuuzaki? Just because he had watched him die?

But it was with a smirk! His Kira side argued.

It was his victory and there was no relationship between them. No love, just hate. And if they had ever crossed the hate line into the fine area, it was always friendship. Nothing more.

But it was still his precious one.

**So who's going to watch you die?..**

With Ryuuzaki gone, who would love him that he loved back?

Misa would love him, but that was blind love, love that never came at a price he wished the pay.

Those thoughts almost hurt…

Then he was running, bloodstained, struggling to get somewhere, anywhere, he remembered the times before he was Kira, before he had done anything. But he would never have loved.

And he hated himself for entertaining that thought.

As he limped up the steps of the dirty warehouse, he thought of what Ryuuzaki had said 'Who's going to watch you die?' If it didn't hurt so much, he would have scoffed.

Instead, with a tired look taking over his features, he felt a slight throb in his chest. And in a silent whisper, _'il M'aime…pas du tout?' _

He could almost see the ghostly silhouette illuminating the dim warehouse, and he thought he heard as he closed his eyes forever, '_il M'aime' _

But it could have been his imagination of a passing wind.

The End

A/N: I am waaaay too lazy to edit this. I screwed this up big time and I never got the chance to post it during my holiday. I feel like scrapping it.

The good things that came out of the holiday is that I got a ton of cool ideas, I finished reading Emily of Emerald Hill and The Book Thief. The bad things are that I haven't even done my homework and I have a week left.

If anyone can do better, just tell me and I'll scrap this.


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